But that other wretch could not know that I was meditating any such unusual scheme, as following him without a full day's warning. I thought of this even before I had finished my sentence, and did not need the blank astonishment in the face of the man before me to convince me that I had given utterance to a foolish accusation. "It would have been some sort of a motive for your actions," I humbly added, as I sank back from my hostile attitude; "now you have none." I thought he bestowed upon me a look of quiet pity, but if so he soon hid it with his uplifted glass. "Forget the girl," said he; "I know of a dozen just as pretty." I was too indignant to answer. "Women are the bane of life," he now sententiously exclaimed. "They are ever intruding themselves between a man and his comfort, as for instance just now between yourself and this good wine." I caught up the bottle in sheer desperation. "Don't talk of them," I cried, "and I will try and drink. I almost wish there was poison in the glass. My death here might bring punishment upon you." He shook his head, totally unmoved by my passion. "We deal punishment, not receive it. It would not worry me in the least to leave you lying here upon the floor." I did not believe this, but I did not stop to weigh the question then; I was too much struck by a word he had used. "Deal punishment?" I repeated. "Are you punishing me? Is that why I am here?" He laughed and held out his glass to mine. "You enjoy being sarcastic," he observed. "Well, it gives a spice to conversation, I own. Talk is apt to be dull without it." For reply I struck the glass from his hand; it fell and shivered, and he looked for the moment really distressed. "I had rather you had struck me," he remarked, "for I have an answer for an injury like that; but for a broken glass--" He sighed and looked dolefully at the pieces on the floor. Mortified and somewhat ashamed, I put down my own glass. "You should not have exasperated me," I cried, and walked away beyond temptation, to the other side of the room.